


Would You Love A Monsterman

by liselle



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dubious Consent, Forced Bonding, Knotting, M/M, beastiality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liselle/pseuds/liselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt: Charles is a human. The world has captured and caged up werewolves and Charles is the newbie on a super elite team that studies them. Erik is a werewolf and about to be put down because of generally being an uncooperative ass when Charles feels bad and secretly takes him home instead or killing him. all of canon Erik's mutant pride is transferred into his werewolf pride so he never changes into a human though his friends/allies/enemies do. basically Erik starts having a sexual relationship with Charles, runs away to free his brethren, takes over the world, comes back to make Charles his mate/bitch/up to you and idk any or none of those things just a somewhat happyish ending preferred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

There was an alpha werewolf in Charles’ section. An exquisite Siberian wolf which led a pack nearing a thousand in number. It was an honour of the highest degree to be given an alpha for observation, much less one as rare and valuable as this one – 214782, it was called in its files, although Charles silently called the alpha by its name, pulled from the beast’s mind through a jumble of thoughts consisting of blood, flesh, death and hatred.

_Erik Lensherr_.

Hank was exhilarated – they all were – when their research group was assigned Lensherr. Alpha wolves numbered one against almost three hundred in betas and omegas. It was the result of evolution – with humans hunting down and caging werewolves the way they were, it was necessary to have as many breeders as possible. Lensherr’s pack was the strongest of all the werewolf packs – the omegas had been the best breeders observed, Hank said.

The alpha itself was a specimen of virility – they have yet to observe him in rut, without drugs suppressing its werewolf instincts, but it should be magnificent.

Charles wondered what the alpha looked like in its human form – they all did, for since the day of Lensherr’s capture, five months ago, the alpha had not once assumed its human form. Even its thoughts – animalistic and ragged around the edges, filled with thorns and rage – did not betray any reflection of its human image.

They had tried any number of experiments – the suppressor drugs did not work the way it should, not with an alpha this pure. Lensherr’s werewolf ancestry dated back twelve generations; the next longest werewolf line only dated back five. For all they knew, Hank said helplessly, as Lensherr roared and thrashed against the silver bars of his cage -- even the effects of silver were dampen against it -- this particular alpha had never changed out of its wolf form in its entire life.

Seven months, and in the middle of the full moon – the rut – Lensherr broke free of its silver cage and tore the laboratory apart. Charles and Hank were called to the scene at one in the morning, to a wreckage of broken glass and steel, dripping from the walls and across the floor, mingling with the blood and torn flesh of the guards – Charles turned his head to the side and puked messily over the concrete floor.

Lensherr was unconscious and in chains, with at least twelve suppressor darts still stuck in its flesh, its beautiful fur stained with dark red blood and the fluids from the bodies. Ripped apart, as if they were nothing but _toys_ – Charles felt the bile rising in his throat again. Even with the remains of the dead staining its fur, Lensherr was _magnificent_ , the clean patches of its white fur shining in stark contrast to the dark stains.

Hank was babbling to someone behind him – Stryker, Charles realised, even though his head still reeled from the carnage surrounding them. Something about the alpha being an exceptionally strong specimen – all efforts of subduing its wolf nature have failed – no, he would not recommend it, not for such a rare species, potentially the only one left of its kind.

Charles felt a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach as the implications of Hank’s words sunk into his dazed mind.

“They are going to put it down tomorrow,” Hank said, when the footfalls of Stryker’s stride down the corridor finally faded into the distance.

He sounded weary. Broken.

Charles remained standing in the lab, long after the workers had come to clear away the remains, the wreckage, and cleaned the floor of the blood and vomit, long after Hank had left, a final press of his hand against Charles’ shoulder as reassurance. Hank knew how important this project was to Charles.

Charles stared at Lensherr’s prone form, still sodden with blood, fluids, even faeces, as his victims had lost control of their bowels while being torn apart. The stink was almost unbearable.

He grabbed a bucket and a cloth – the alpha deserved more than this, surely, and began to scrub the beautiful fur clean of the taint. When the werewolf was finally clean of the taint, Charles began pulling out the suppresor darts – no sense leaving the darts in the flesh, when the sedatives have long since run their way through the alpha’s bloodstream.

The alpha’s mind was dead silent against the touch of Charles’ telepathy. Lensherr’s chest moved in the slow, steady rise and falls of an animal deep in sleep – if it were not for the warm gusts of breath against Charles’ skin, Charles would have thought it already dead.

And this beautiful creature was going to die in the morning.

Without realising it, Charles’ hands were already busy pulling at the silver chains.

***

He was barely three steps into dragging the werewolf out onto the corridor, before he was starting to regret his lack of foresight in smuggling a 130 pound werewolf out from a high security government laboratory.

It was almost a relief to see the werewolf react to Charles’ frantic psychic jabs at its forebrain – his powers rarely, if ever, worked on animals, and were unreliable on half-beings like werewolves at best. The alpha’s mind was clouded with drugs – not a surprise, there, seeing as the dosage given would have killed any lesser werewolf instantaneously. Its heavily furred paws dragged across the floor as it padded after Charles, its head bowed obediently against the firm tug of Charles’ hand around the fur of its neck.

Charles gleaned enough information from the guards in the control room to avoid the security cameras; again, a mammoth task, given the werewolf which he had to drag across the quiet corridors. The guards did not pose a problem, given his powers – a quick suggestion had them turning elsewhere, thus freeing him to hurry across the last stretch of the hallway to the back entrance and out into the car park.

The werewolf resisted Charles’ efforts of getting it into the car – its thoughts a combination of _no cage, no more, fight_ – but its attempts were feeble, and Charles managed to bundle it into the backseat, soothing the rage in the werewolf’s mind into an uneasy sleep as he quickly buckled himself into the driver’s seat. Thankfully it was almost four in the morning, and the moon’s influence was weak, with the threat of sunrise in the next hour.

The muscles at the alpha’s neck bunched and twisted as Charles dragged Lensherr out of the car. The mansion loomed before them in its Victorian glory, with its overgrown grounds, peeling paint, and crumbling statues. He had not been back in ten years – not since he left for boarding school at fifteen.

A low snarl rumbled through Lensherr’s throat as Charles dragged him down the stairs to the basement – another unpleasant memory, Charles thought, as he quickly sent another wave of calming emotions into Lensherr’s mind. The werewolf thrashed against his hold as he flung open the steel doors to the bunker. For a brief moment, Charles panicked – the effects of the drugs were wearing off quickly than he thought – but the werewolf quietened when he shoved it into the bunker and shut the doors behind them.

Lensherr’s eyes gleamed with a bright gold under the bright fluorescent lights, glazed over under the lingering effects of the drug and Charles’ powers. _Easy,_ Charles thought, as he tentatively ran a hand through the werewolf’s thick white coat. It must be painful for the wolf, to be caged and suppressed, especially when the moon is high and the desire to mate is overpowering all other instincts. The alpha’s eyes drooped under the gentle strokes of Charles’ fingers through its fur. The wolf must have been blinded with rage and fear, he thought, resting his head against the alpha’s back, to kill so messily and without finesse. It was unbecoming of an alpha of Lensherr’s status, to cover itself with the blood and grime from its kills.

The wolf was still struggling to be free – even though the gentle comfort of Charles’ mind and his hands. He did not know if he could contain the alpha’s primal instincts with only his powers when the full moon is high in the sky. Chains, perhaps – Charles shuddered at the thought – the silver chains and cage had driven the wolf to the brutal murder of three men.

_Sleep_ , he coaxed the creature. _Sleep, safety, warmth_.

Exhausted from the exertions of the night, he found himself drifting off against Lensherr’s back.

***

Charles was awakened the next morning by a heavy weight pinning him to the hard steel floor of the bunker. The werewolf snarled against his face, warm breath gusting across his hand, even as its claws tightened around his shoulders. Charles tried to not twist in pain as the claws sliced through the thin fabric of his shirt and pierced through his flesh. _Focus_ , even though his shoulders were in agony. _Me_ , he tried to press the impressions of _friend_ and _ally_ into the werewolf’s mind, although he did not know if the wolf was able to understand these human concepts.

_Pack_ , he tried desperately, fear clouding his mind as he felt the stickiness of his blood dripping down his shoulders. He tried to blink back the cold sweat from his eyes – _pack, pack, pack_ , he thought frantically, although he knew that the wolf could smell the fear in his scent, his sweat, his _blood_. _I’m going to die_. From his own foolishness, from actually being stupid enough to fall asleep on a werewolf’s back. The werewolf dipped its head down – _to rip my throat out_ , Charles thought, immobilised in fear –

The wet swipe of a rough tongue against his injured flesh jerked him back to full awareness. Charles didn’t dare breathe as the alpha continued nursing his left shoulder, licking up the blood that welled up from the wound and carefully spreading its saliva around the torn flesh. He didn’t dare move when the werewolf shifted its attention to his right shoulder, carefully using its claws to tear away his shirt, and dipping down its head to lick at the wound.

It was trying to heal his shoulder with its saliva, Charles thought, slightly dazed from fear and blood loss. His hands twisted against thin air, before he tentatively brought them up to the werewolf’s back – careful not to bring them anywhere close to the neck, or anywhere that may be construed as a threat – and threading his fingers through its fur, in imitation of his gestures from the previous night.

He was almost lulled into unconsciousness, with the weight of the wolf on his body, and the slow, long swipes of a wet tongue across his skin, when the wolf moved its muzzle up to mouth at the skin on his neck. Charles tensed under the explorations of the wolf, as it butted its wet nose against his neck. _Scenting_ him, Charles realised, with a shudder. He tried to shift out from under the alpha, but the claws around his shoulder tightened threateningly.

The wolf’s eyes, when they finally caught his own, were a burnished gold which shone with intelligence. _Human_ eyes, despite their colour.

_No_ , Charles pushed the thought into the wolf’s mind, and saw the flicker of resistance in the uncannily bright irises. It – _He_ – understood human language. Charles’ felt the graze of sharp teeth against his neck. _No –_ if the werewolf were any less of a wolf, and more of a man, it would have been hurtling itself towards the other end of the bunker in its haste to get away, such was the force of Charles’ command. Instead, it only dragged its teeth across his slick skin, and slowly, deliberately – _taunting_ him, Charles realised, showing him that his powers were useless against it – pressed its canine teeth into his flesh, not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave an imprint.

Charles felt his heartbeat stop for a second.

The alpha remained there for a long moment, teeth pressed against his neck, before it slowly moved itself off Charles’ frozen body, giving his shoulder one last lick before it flipped itself onto the ground.

_I need to leave_ – the thought was left in the air – and he knew the werewolf heard it, despite the lack of response from the creature. _Let me leave_ , he thought, as he slowly scrambled to his feet. _Food, water_ , an offering, so that the werewolf would not bar his way.

Charles could not help the tears of relief that rolled down his face when he was finally out in the open sunshine, away from the burning gold eyes and the thick alpha scent of a werewolf under the influence of the full moon.

His shoulders had already stopped hurting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags.

“Charles?” Hank’s voice was almost shrill with panic. “You have to get back to the lab.” Charles tapped on speaker mode and set his Android phone back down onto the nightstand. “Charles?”

“What happened?” His shoulders burned slightly, and if he took his shirt off he expected to see scars the shape of claw-marks. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes before attempting to blink them open, only to immediately squeeze them shut again at the first sting of the bright morning sun. His eyes felt dry, and his throat burned in reminder of a restless night. It took him a couple more moments to remember to feign anger. “I don't give a fuck about demerits, Hank, so don't expect me to be present when they put down the last surviving member of an endangered species.”

“That's my point,” Hank almost wailed, “Lensherr's gone.”

Charles allowed a couple of minutes to pass before he replied, voice rasping and sounding suitably unsettled. “I was about to call in sick, but give me a couple of hours, and I'll be there.”

There was a shift in Hanks tone from frantic panic to worried concern. “Are you ok --”

“Yes, I just need a couple of hours.” Hank was reliable in emergencies, once hes given initial direction. A couple more years, and he would be ready to lead his own team. “Make sure the rest of the pack are kept calm -- dont overload them on tranquilisers the way Lensherr was.”

****

Lensherr's mind blazed brightly against his consciousness, a sure telltale of the werewolf's wakened state despite the near eerie silence of the bunker when Charles pressed his ear against the cold steel entrance.

_Pack_. The responding thought was sharp, curious, quick and alarmingly intelligent. _Food_. Charles dropped the icebox in his arms onto the ground, and he could almost imagine Lensherr's ears flicking at the resounding soft thud.

The bunker wasnt built for caging feral -- beings. It was difficult to consider Lensherr an animal, not when the werewolf's mind told Charles something entirely different. Lensherr wasn't human either; under the keen intelligence there churned an inhuman awareness of the phases of the moon, the thrum of blood under skin and a multitude of scents which Charles could not quite decipher, not unless he dipped further into the werewolf's mind.

He may have to saw an opening on the steel door -- for feeding, he thought absently, especially during full moons. The memory of blood, faeces and body fluids splattered across the laboratory walls was still fresh in his mind, and although Lensherr showed no preference for fresh human meat, there was no love lost between the werewolf and mankind.

Charles sank down to a crouch as the steel door swung open, his eyes catching burnished gold irises for a fleeting second before he quickly dropped his gaze. Better to be cautious, than to have Lensherr misconstrue his actions as a direct challenge. He had no intention of engaging in another tug of war with Lensherr, fascinating as the werewolf's mind may be.

_Food_. The werewolf was crouched before him within a blink of an eye, the weight of the werewolf’s eyes burning against the back of his neck as Lensherr idly swiped the slab of raw meat away.

Charles’s breath caught in his throat at the wet press of the werewolfs snout against his neck.

_Friend_ , he pressed, although the concept may be alien to a werewolf who's never assumed human form. _Pack_. His heartbeat quickened at the slight graze of something sharp against his skin. _Pack_. Lensherr's mind shifted slightly, playful swirls of energy breaking across its surface as the pressure of teeth increased, enough to leave an indent but not to break the skin.

Lensherr appeared to be in a good mood, after a night to flush the sedatives from his system. The bunker remained clean; the werewolf had been near fastidious regarding his living quarters, even in the laboratory, and it seemed equally reluctant to soil its new space. Charles would have to let Lensherr out -- the bunker obviously had facilities suited only to the human physique.

For now, though -- _Eat_. He shifted carefully, letting the teeth trace sensitive skin as he attempted to reach for the slab of bloody meat.

The werewolf stilled, and Charles was about to press another command into Lensherr's mind when Lensherr twisted his head and sank his teeth down into the meat.

Charles leashed the werewolf before the Lensherr finished his meal, his power sinking into the werewolf's mind even as Lensherr howled and bared his teeth in fury. _Just for a moment_ , he soothed as he urged the werewolf to follow him out of the bunker. Intelligent as Lensherr was, it wasn't long before the werewolf understood what Charles meant to have him do, and there was a quick flash of amusement which was quickly buried once more under waves of annoyance at being leashed like a mere animal. Charles suspected this was not a transgression which would not be quickly forgiven. Fortunately, the werewolf’s primal nature was subdued during the day; he doubted he would have enough hold once there was a full moon and Lensherr was experiencing the full heat of his rut.

Lensherr remained irate when Charles brought him back to the bunker, but the werewolf did not struggle against his mental hold -- surprising, Charles thought, as he stepped back and closed the heavy steel door behind him.

***

“They’ve sent out search parties with orders to shoot on sight,” Hank said wearily when Charles finally arrived at the laboratory.

Charles squeezed Hank’s shoulder gently. _He is more than cunning enough to evade the search parties_ , he sent quietly. Hank wasnt entirely comfortable with telepathic conversation, but it was the safest means of communication now.

Hank nodded and sank down into a worn couch in a corner of the laboratory whilst Charles did a cursory check on the beta and omega wolves. He trusted Hank’s work, but the routine served its purpose of calming his own nerves.

_Have they mentioned their plans for the rest of the pack?_ An omega raised her hackles as he passed by, her ears flattening against her head, and it was then that he realised that he probably smelled of Lensherr -- he quickly backed away before the change in the werewolf’s behaviour became evident. Magda, her name was, watched him with fierce distrust as she paced in her cage. She had a beautiful human form, although she was, as other werewolves were, trapped in wolf form for the full moon.

Hank shook his head, his mind clouding over with concern. _I will handle this,_  Charles sent. Lensherr's pack was invaluable to the government, being the only hold they had currently on Lensherr. Releasing them now -- the eleven they had -- would be a challenge. Best to keep the efforts focused on the hunt for Lensherr for now, and given Charles’s access to the werewolf, spreading false trails wouldnt be much of a challenge.

“I suppose lack of news is good news -- on all fronts.” Hank shuffled his feet nervously when Charles looked up from the microscope; it's been a long day of emergency meetings, and only Hank and he had even attempted resuming their research. “I suppose so,” Charles replied noncommittally as he packed away his slides. “We both know that werewolves are no threat to society -- not if they're left to their own devices.”

Hank ducked his head. “I guess,” he muttered.

***

Charles dropped his keys wearily onto the mantelpiece by the main entrance as he entered the mansion. His back stiffened when a howl cut through the eerie silence of the night; he was in no state to handle Lensherr, but werewolves in rut without the comfort of their pack have a tendency to self-harm.

Resigned, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and headed back out, wincing slightly as another howl rang out. Lensherr. The grinding sound of claws against metal grated against his ears. _You know me._

Despite the full moon, it took Charles a few precious seconds to acclimatise himself with the darkness of the bunker when he finally steeled himself to step in and close the door behind him. The werewolf’s eyes gleamed in the dark, twin ghost fires which tracked each minute movement as he slowly reached for the switch.

His breath was punched out of his chest as a heavy weight landed upon him, knocking him to the ground and sending a sharp pain up his spine as he connected with the hard cement floor.

_Lensherr._ The command was sharp, jarring, and it seemed only to fuel the werewolfs hunger, the wolf’s claws tearing the fabric of his trousers and digging slightly into his thighs. Charles’s grip on Lensherr's mind faltered as he hissed in pain. The sound of cloth tearing jolted him back to reality, and he looked down to see Lensherr ripping away what remained of his trousers and underwear. The sheer absurdity of the situation hit him belatedly, and it took only the press of fangs against his neck and a warning growl to stop his thrashing.

_No_.The command rang like a bell. He wasnt a werewolf,wasnt one of the many pack omegas. _No, no, no_. The sight of the werewolf's member emerging from its sheath, thick and angry, only made him renew his struggles, the werewolf's claws tearing at skin until Charles finally stilled, breath catching in his throat and heart thumping against his chest as Lensherr attempted to force himself in between his legs.

_No. Not -- not like this_. The werewolf was too far gone in its rut to stop, but it stilled momentarily, cock dragging over Charles's inner thighs as Charles scrambled away.

He was able only to reach the shelves at the corner of the bunker before the werewolf crashed upon him from behind. The contents of the drawers tumbled onto the floor along with Charles -- energy bars, toiletries, a torchlight, batteries, and other old knick knacks left behind by his father. His nails scratched at hard cement before he managed to latch onto a jar of Vaseline -- not ideal, but it was at least something.

He could sense a flicker of understanding from the werewolf as Charles brought his fingers to his hole. Charles latched onto the fleeting human consciousness, praying that it would last long enough for him to ready himself -- enough that the penetration wouldn't cause serious injury.

Charles has had sexual encounters with a few men, but he still very much preferred women, with their soft curves, slender waists and rounded hips. He sought men out only when he felt adventurous, wanted a change to his routine or a taste of something new.

The two times he had indulged in anal sex, he had been the one performing the act of penetration. The idea of being penetrated had never appealed to him, and he had never regretted the lack of such an experience.

Not until now, when even two fingers up his own ass was enough to make him grit his teeth with discomfort. The stretch burned too much, not a good sign, when Charles was desperate to make the process as quick as possible, already forcing a third finger in despite the sting of tears in his eyes. “Fuck,” he cursed, chest heaving as he attempted to scissor his fingers apart, spreading the Vaseline as deep as he could.

The preparation did nothing to stop the the slow claw of terror in his mind when he felt the werewolf shift against him, thick fur pressing against his bare skin and weight heavy against his back. He wasn't ready, would never be, yet he could already feel the press of a hot cock against his hole, followed by an unforgiving thrust which had him sobbing into the crook of his arm as he was split apart by the werewolfs thick girth.

_Stop_. There was a wet slide of tongue against his neck, almost apologetic, but the inexorable slide of the werewolf's member into his body did not cease. He felt as if his insides were on fire, and it seemed as if there was no end to it, not even when Lensherr bottomed out against him, his fur brushing against Charles's ass as he started fucking into Charles in long steady strokes which dragged gargled sounds of pain from Charles's throat.

He choked at a particularly rough thrust which almost made his arms give way under him, his ass clenching uncontrollably around the thick cock which pummeled into him. His voice is punched out of him with each forceful shove forward, soft whines and nonsensical pleas which fell against deaf ears as Charles arched his back against the brutal thrusts.

His own cock dragged against the cold cement floor as Charles was fucked to within an inch of his life, his gasps punctuated by the sound of Lensherr's balls slapping against his ass and the wet slide of pre-come and Vaseline against skin. His consciousness soon blurred, red hot flashes of pain interrupted only by flashes of near indiscernible pleasure when Lensherr hit his prostate. It wasn't enough to stop from Charles from thrashing when he felt the base of Lensherr's member filling out, stretching him out until he thought he was going to burst.

The teeth against his neck was enough to make him still again, shoulders trembling as Lensherr forced the knot into him, locking them together as hot spurts of seed flooded his insides.

Charles didn't realise that he had collapsed onto the floor until Lensherr dragged him back up onto his knees against by his collar. Groaning, he rocked forward as Lensherr continued jabbing into him, the thick cock inside of him still spilling the werewolf's seed whilst the knot dragged Charles along the floor.

His vision blurred; and the world faded into darkness at the sharp pain of Lensherr sinking his teeth into his neck.

 

 


End file.
